A Spanner In The Works
by AlSmash
Summary: When Lelouch accepted Geass on that fateful day in the Shinjuku Ghetto, he had believed he finally would be able to take revenge upon his father and create a gentle world for his sister. Alas, he was mistaken. Instead, he finds himself drawn into a war being waged in the shadows between two brothers, one with implications being far higher than empire-making.
1. The Great Game

**This was initially an idea that was floated on the Code Geass Reddit Discord by a fellow member of it. Somehow it gained traction in my head to where it eventually became something viable and I was excited about. It's all based upon a few simple differences between the actions leading up to what we consider the Series (not OVA) timeline.**

**Chapter 1**

**The Great Game**

_Whoever said that the road to hell was paved with good intentions was a liar, it is paved in paperwork, _Emperor Charles zi Britannia of the Holy Britannian Empire thought to himself as he closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose, attempting and failing to ward away the headache that was kind enough to remind him that he had been sitting here staring at these damnable white sheets of paper for the better part of the evening.

If he had been told when he began down the path of killing his father and becoming Emperor would see him spend the better part of the last two decades of his life thumbing through report after report detailing everything from the critically important to the most mind-numbingly inane of minutiae he would have quite honestly laughed in the man's face. An Emperor did not pore over reports, his younger self would have retorted, he led his nation to greater and greater heights, heights that his father had neglected in his singular purpose of satisfying his personal interests. They would most certainly not be an administrator.

Alas, if only he could only go back and smack some sense into his younger self, he thought with a chuckle.

Oh, he wouldn't change anything he had done. Far from it, what he had done had been _necessary_. But he would most certainly have handled some of those decisions much differently.

Like his brother.

And like a light switching off, his mirth faded away, replaced only with the solemn focus that had become his only constant companion over the years, bringing him back once again to the accused paperwork that haunted his daily life. Though, if he were to be honest, the report before him did threaten to put a smile on his face.

When he had become aware that his impudent fop of a son, Clovis, had been conspiring behind his back with his brother, he had been quite frankly enraged. Not at his waste of a son, heavens no, he had assigned him the viceroyship of Area 11 in the hopes that he would fuck it up so magnificently that it would bait the Chinese Federation into giving him an excuse to go to war and use the war to wipe out his brother's personal little fiefdom in the Taklamakan Desert. If it got him killed in the process, well then it was no skin off his nose. In fact, it would make his pathetic life actually worth all of the waste that had gone into it.

No, what had almost incensed him enough to fly over there and strangle the little shit himself had been that his brother had given Clovis the one thing he had been searching for the last seven years with no success. He knew if he made any overt moves towards his son, V.V. would rabbit C.C. into whatever hole he had been keeping her, likely never to be seen again.

No, he had only one chance at retrieving C.C., and that was why he had sent his one of his most trusted subordinates to retrieve C.C., knowing that if anyone would be able to do it, it would be the man who had earned the moniker of 'War'.

Which brought him back to the report sitting before him. The Code-R problem had been dealt with, not necessarily how he had originally intended, but maybe it was for the best as it had borne an unexpected fruit. His estranged son, Lelouch, had somehow gotten mixed up in it all, partnering with the resistance group that War had leaked to in order to extract C.C. from captivity, and had even took it a step further in disposal of Clovis. The report further outlined how the battle had been a one-sided massacre up until Schneizel's little toy had gotten involved and turned the tide.

Sighing, he closed the folder containing the report and lightly drummed his fingers upon the manila cover, digesting the report and what he should do with what he had learned.

A colder, more calculating part of him considered the merits of just doing nothing. Every report he had indicated that Lelouch was resourceful and intelligent enough to immediately hit the ground running, and considering the deep-seated hatred his son had for him, would no doubt use his Geass to foment a rebellion against him. Which would still work out in his favor, considering any rebellion his erstwhile son executed would entice those impotent Eunuchs into action, thereby giving him the excuse he had hoped Clovis would provide him. All the while, he could imagine Vincent would be foaming at the mouth at the unintended slight against him made by the spawn of the woman he so hated.

In fact, that would be the most wise course of action, compounded by C.C. now back on the board and firmly invested in the safety of her new contractor, it would provide him a wedge to keep his brother distracted and wasting assets on something he could ill afford to be preoccupied with. The time bought by his brother's single-minded preoccupation could be used to gain an advantage that he would otherwise be hard-pressed to earn.

Oh, he knew Marianne would likely try and geld him for leaving their son and daughter to the wolves, but it was the least risky option available. He could ill afford open warfare with his brother, there were just too many variables and unknowns for him to confront his brother and be comfortable that the end result would be his victory. It was better to play upon V.V.'s fixation with Marianne's children, and use it to buy time he so desperately needed.

But therein laid the crux of the problem that stayed his hand from immediately committing to this stratagem, Marianne's likely threat of gelding otherwise. Time was most certainly no ally of his, and any time that he _did_ earn was more pyrrhic than any sort of advantage.

After all, that was one of the difficulties when your enemy was an immortal trapped in the body of an eleven year old, they could simply wait until you died and that would be it. And at sixty-two years of age, he was no longer the young buck that he had once been, and Vincent knew it. It was why, despite his advantage with his little tykebomb factory of disposal geass agents, he had been quite happy maintaining a cold war between the two of them.

No, maybe twenty years ago he would have been content to pursue that strategy, but he could no longer afford to be cautious and bide his time. He had to take decisive action, and sooner rather than later.

It was with this thought in mind that he reached to page Bismarck, only for the door to burst open and a short pinkette rushed into the looking like a kid who had just been handed the keys to their favorite candy store.

"Charles. Charles! Did you read the report War made? Look at our little boy, taking Clovis to the cleaners like that!"

It took all of his effort not to sigh and massage his brow again at the interruption. He loved Marianne vi Britannia. He truly did. However, there times when when even she could try his prodigious patience.

"Yes dear. In fact, I just finished reading it," he responded, allowing the host for his wife's essence plop down and drape herself over the ornate chair, legs swinging over one of the arms.

"So what are you going to do about it," she demanded, checking her nails, "according to War Lelouch not only has Geass, but a very powerful one at that. I sincerely doubt V.V.'s going to sit in his high chair and leave him alone."

"Why don't you just say what you really want, Marianne, you want to bring our son into the game."

The resulting pout was worth it, he mused, finding at least some amusement in denying his love's playful and irreverence and going straight to the point. Then again, that was what had drawn him to her in the first place. That lack of deference and willingness to treat him like a fellow commoner was a refreshing (if at times annoying) breath of fresh air in a world of scraping and kowtowing.

"Fine," she groaned, obviously realizing that it was no longer time for playing around, as she swiveled in the chair and looked him straight in the eye, "since it seems our son is finally done pretending to live a normal life in spite of all the makings he has for greatness, I want him working with us instead of against us. You know that hubristic hobgoblin would find a sick sense of irony in pointing our son at you, implying that it was you that killed me and crippled Nunnally."

With a grunt of agreement, he steepled his fingers.

"Then you will be interested to know, before you decided to grace me with your presence, that I was about to contact Bismarck to begin preparations for a trip to Area 11 to retrieve our estranged children."

This drew a blink from the possessed teenage host of his wife.

"You usually are not this decisive, Charles," she finally stated, her expression contemplative, as if trying to decode the riddle that was before her, "I mean, it _is_ our son, but even that wouldn't have this dramatic of an influence. I'm missing something here, what is it?"

"We're losing, Marianne," came an admission he was loathe to give to anyone else, but Marianne deserved to know, "I hate to admit this, but it is no less the truth. Vincent doesn't have any of the distractions that you and I have. He doesn't have to maintain an Empire, nor is he surrounded by those of questionable loyalties. Vincent was always the cunning one of the two of us, and he has slowly whittled down what options we have. Frankly, we need a miracle, or a wild card."

"And you think Lelouch—?"

"Would be a spanner in the works. Something Vincent would not expect us to do. I have always kept my children at a distance, stoking their resentment of me in the hopes that maybe one of them would actually be a chip off the block and do what is best for _everyone_. Alas, it seems I have failed in this regard as none of my spawn have satisfied me. Now, I'm going to force the matter, and Vincent will have no other option but to respond in kind and expose himself in his single-minded hatred of all things you."

"Well, if you intend to use Lelouch as bait, then we better make sure he has the best of knights to protect him."

"I was considering appointing the Margrave Gottwald as Lelouch's knight."

"Absolutely not! If I wanted Lelouch to have a loyal dog, I'd get him a puppy. Gottwald's braggadocio and inability to think outside the box will only hinder our son, and more than likely get one or both of them killed. Lelouch needs someone who will challenge him and be willing to say 'no' when he tries something stupid. And, god forbid, has to yank him feet from the fire when he inevitably bites off more than he can chew."

"Then who do you suggest, love. There are not a lot of options and it will be a cold day in hell before I personally choose a Number to be a Knight for any of my children."

"Don't be so dramatic, Charles," she chided him, getting up and leaning over the desk to open up the file again, placing her finger on a photo of a redhead, "I think she would make the perfect knight for our son."

He raised an eyebrow before looking at her, "The Earl Stadtfeld's daughter? You do realize that you are suggesting that I make a young woman who has been actively committing treason against the crown as our son's knight."

"And you think Lelouch wouldn't if we had left him alone," she retorted archly, "Charles, I can count on one hand the number of devicers excluding myself who can take an obsolete, cobbled together, pre-invasion Glasgow and give up-to-date Sutherland piloted by seasoned devicers a run for their money. All of them happen to be Knights of the Round, by the way. It would be incredibly stupid of us not to take advantage of what has landed right in our laps."

"That's not your only reason is it, Marianne? Trying to play matchmaker for our son?"

Her sniff alone would have been a declaration that he had been right, but she didn't leave it to that, "I'll admit that I am a bit partial to the Stadtfeld heiress, take away her nobility, she reminds me a bit of myself when I was younger, if a bit more reckless. Give her a bit of polishing and a knightmare to match her skills," there was a shrug, "I'm not selfish enough to admit we could likely be looking at the next Flash. Her hair is already red, think of how beautiful she would be covered in the blood of our son's enemies."

_And there it is, _he mused, recognizing the part of Marianne's persona that had earned her the nickname "The Flash". While the public narrative behind her sobriquet was one focused upon her combat prowess, the truth was actually far, far darker. It was a truth that revolved around Marianne's innate bloodthirstiness, and the fact that she had cut a swath through the halls of Pendragon, painting them in the blood of their enemies. 'The Flash' was about much more than her speed, it was an acknowledgment of the fact that for many of her victims, the flash of light reflecting off her rapier was the last thing they ever saw.

No, beneath that veneer of a cheerful, playful woman was a high-functioning psychopath whose taste for bloodshed was kept on a tenuous leash. He had a feeling that when V.V. had attempted to kill Marianne, it hadn't just been out of spite, but actual fear of what would happen if she had been unleashed upon him when he had betrayed them.

Yes, that likely was it.

"I see," he offered neutrally, considering her proposal. While he was no expert on knightmare combat, even he could see the skill that the Stadtfeld heiress that was evidenced in the Shinjuku Ghetto. The issue was that he was loathe to stack too many complications to the plan, ignoring the fact that hesitant to add a variable that would provide his son with the means to backstab him. Another Marianne in his pocket would be something to worry for.

Yet, on the other hand, Marianne was right. They needed to provide Lelouch with every possible means to be successful in achieving the objectives that were going to be put before him…

"Very well," came his endorsement, "the Stadtfeld heiress will become our son's knight. However," he focused upon her, "she will be _your_ responsibility, Marianne. I do not want her becoming a problem for the plan."

The beaming smile that lit up her face made it worth it, despite his misgivings. A happy Marianne was one that was not like to be an annoyance.

"Of course, Charles. You won't regret this. I'll mold her into the perfect knight for our son. And the grandbabies," she gushed, "the grandbabies~..."

_And we come to the actual reason for all of this_, Charles thought to himself as Marianne continued talking about grandchildren and what they would be like, reaching over to page Bismarck. At least one of them had to actually spend their time constructively.


	2. Acquiring the Pieces

_**A/N: Still Alive, I am**_

**Chapter 2**

_**Acquiring the Pieces**_

_All conditions are met,_ Lelouch Lamperouge thought to himself as he strode towards the Ashford Clubhouse, _all that remains is for Kallen to make the next move._

Of course, none of this would have been necessary in the first place if he hadn't been so damnably overconfident in using his power without knowing its limitations. So drunk on the power to literally make a thrall of anyone with few words and a gimlet eye that he hadn't even deigned to consider that there may be drawbacks to his power.

It had almost likely cost him his life if not for Shirley's interference.

Never again, he had promised himself. He hadn't gotten to where he was by acting like an idiot. Never again would he treat this power so cavalierly. It may be a sword, but it was a double-edged sword that was just as likely to harm him as do good if he were not careful. Especially since he wasn't aware of any of the rules or limitations that exist, and he likely never would be fully sure that he did know them all.

But he had to focus upon the here and now, where either Kallen would be disinclined to believe that he had anything to do with Shinjuku, or she would be dead. And while he would prefer the former, either way, he would be secure and able to move forward in his ambitions.

Once they entered into the clubhouse, he took the time to scan his surroundings, even as the doors began to close behind them. It seemed that his orders to Sayoko had borne fruit, as there seemed to be no one here.

"I never knew there was anyplace like this in the school," Kallen spoke, as he finished his scanning of the surroundings.

"It's the clubhouse for use by the student council," he responded as the doors closed behind them, "It was built large enough to host a formal dance."

"And we won't be disturbed in here?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Lelouch," a booming voice reverberated through the ballroom, causing Lelouch to freeze and turn his head to the source as it slowly revealed itself at the top of the stairs leading up to the upper floor of the balcony. Every thought, every consideration ground to a halt as eyes widened, his hands began to shake as the echo of footsteps were like gunshots as the figure trekked down the stairs.

Even as his mind fought to dismiss what he was seeing, the reality of it all struck home as the figure finally came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, amused dark purple meeting enraged violet in a silent staredown.

And yet they were not the only two there.

For Kallen, the sight of the Emperor of Britannia, the man she despised even moreso than her own spineless father, clicked together pieces of information that she would have never truly connected in her wildest dreams. Pieces like the knowledge that the Emperor personally knew Lelouch, the fact that Lelouch's last name was _Lamperouge_, and the final piece being that the late Marianne vi Britannia's maiden name **had** _**also been Lamperouge**__._

She didn't even think, as her body went into motion, reflex driven by hatred for a family that she held responsible for her plight providing the purpose for her actions, her purse knife extending and she swung the blade straight for the carotid artery in Lelouch's neck.

Yet, as the blade almost met flesh, she found another hand grabbing her wrist, yanking her arm back and away, and a foot was driven into the back of her left knee. A quick twist of her wrist, and the weapon was pried free. Before Kallen could even retaliate she found her face planted into the marble tilework of the ballroom floor.

Lelouch hadn't been left alone in this, as he found his head wrenched to the side, his neck registering the sharp biting sensation of a needle being jabbed into his neck, before it was replaced by the icy-cold sensation of fluid being injected. At the same time, he felt the handgun he had placed in waistband of the small of his back pulled away. Then he was released, leaving him to stagger forward, barely able to recover himself before he planted on the floor.

Yet it provided him an opportunity that removed any worry as to what had been injected into him, as damn the consequences, if this was going to be it, he was going to take _that man_ along with him. And as he brought his head up, he found his gaze being met by _that man_, giving him the means to exact his revenge.

"Lelouch vi Britannia commands you..._**DIE**_!"

Nothing happened for a moment, as if the entire world held its breath. Then it was suddenly, and quite brutally, broken as Charles zi Britannia merely arched an eyebrow in response to the seemingly random command that had no contextual purpose to the situation.

Lelouch only saw red in response, having seen enough of that expression in the past to know when he was being mocked. So he did the only thing he could do in this situation…

"**Lelouch vi Britannia commands you, Charles zi Britannia...**_**DIE!"**_

Only for nothing to happen, except for the Emperor to add a smirk in response.

"What is the matter, my son? Already having performance issues at your age? I find myself disappointed."

As if a bucket of ice water had been poured upon him, his mind finally catching up to him what it had been trying to warn him the first time, that when he tried to use his power, there was none of telltale intoxicating feeling of power. The blinding rage that had been driving his actions fell away to shock at the fact that his power had failed to work again, before falling into a far more insidious feeling of fear, tearing away at his heart and depriving him of the surety of his cause and leaving him to fall to his knees as if he were a puppet with his strings cut.

"What did you do to me," he asked, not even making it a demand, as he realized that he was once again, like 7 years ago, without any power before the very same man who had set off the chain of events that had finally come full circle.

It was then his entire world fell completely out from beneath him, as _that man_ reached up to his eyes, and then pulled it away, revealing a pair of all-too-familiar sigils in his eyes.

"Did you truly believe that you could be the only one gifted with the power of Geass, Lelouch," Charles rumbled, replacing the contacts upon his eyes and covering up his Geass, "what you have been injected with a compound that inhibits Geass and its effects."

Disarmed, and without his power. It truly was the worst of situations, one where he was completely at the mercy of the man who had exiled Nunnally and himself, then left them to die when he invaded Japan.

And yet, a logical part of him was curious. Say what you will about Charles zi Britannia,but no one could ever accuse the Emperor of being unnecessarily cruel. So for him to be here to gloat his victory when it would be more in-character for him to simply send a kill squad had Lelouch wondering exactly _why_ he was here in the first place, without anyone obviously knowing as it would have been all over the news.

"What is it you want," he finally demanded.

"To talk."

To this, Lelouch scoffed, even as he slowly found his way to his feet. With Charles' admission, he found a bit more room to maneuver, just a bit of wind in his sails in order to deal with the situation and maybe escape to live another day.

"Please, Your Majesty," he spat the title, letting a bit of that returned self-assuredness leak through, "you wouldn't come halfway around the world in secret just to talk when you could have had OSI grab me and drag me back to Pendragon. You want something and you don't want to alienate me in order to get it."

What he didn't expect was a flickering of the Emperor's eye to his side, before he found a blade at his neck. This time Lelouch took the time to get a good look at his attacker from before, noting the featureless black faceplate that was polished enough for him to see his own reflection.

"You would be careful on what you assume, Lelouch," came the warning, as he brought his gaze back to the Emperor, the blade coming away from his neck as quickly as it had been placed there, "I have neither the time nor the patience for your insolence. I am only here at the behest of your mother who felt it would be more—respectful that our reunion would be in Japan than having you dragged back to the homeland."

It had taken a moment for Lelouch to register exactly what the Emperor had said, specifically the part of about his mother, who should be dead. Yet, before he could inquire as to what the man had meant, a sudden bout of hysterical laughter abruptly killed the question upon his lips as both men turned their heads to the source of the laughter. To Kallen, who despite having her the side of her face bruisingly held to the cool marble, had enough space to laugh.

"You called it Japan," she continued abated into a hysterical giggle, as if she couldn't comprehend the simple _premise _of what had been sent, "why would you call it Japan, we're nothing but filthy Elev-"

Whatever else she was cut off in a gasp as her head was brought back up and smacked lightly on the marble, the knee digging harder into the small of her back. Yet the words had been spoken, leaving an indelible mark upon the atmosphere. So much so, that it was to Lelouch's surprise at what happened next.

The Emperor strode past him, and the likewise masked figure who had been holding Kallen down slowly pulled her up, leaving her to stare at the older man as he towered over her.

"All of us wear masks in order to protect something, Lady Kozuki. You wear the mask of a sickly girl in order to protect your wish to free Japan from the yoke of my Empire. Lelouch wears his mask in order to protect both himself and his younger sister. I wear the mask that I do in order to protect _an idea_."

With that, he turned away and began walking towards the stairs.

"Release her, Athena."

The iron grip that had previously brooked no resistance for Kallen was suddenly released, and she staggered forward, easily catching herself, before turning to glare at her black-clad attacker, looking ready to start a second round. Though, if it were not such a serious situation, Lelouch would have laughed at how it looked more akin to a kitten trying to stand up to a lion.

"Come with me," Charles commanded, before continuing his trek up the stairs. For a moment, Lelouch wanted to resist, never wanting to ever be ordered around again by _him_, however there extenuating circumstances that superseded his desires: The first, being the indication that somehow, despite everything, his mother was still alive, and the second being his own curiosity at seeing a different side to a man who was a hard, unyielding figure who never explained himself to 'lessers', even if said explanation was vague in and of itself.

Kallen, on the other hand, was a mess of emotions. What had so far happened was so far beyond what she could have possibly imagined today. She felt adrift, no longer sure of what she should, or even could do in lieu of what was happening. Yet, to her frustration, the only seemingly acceptable option before her was to follow the man responsible for so much suffering and to hear out whatever it is he wanted.

So, they both did what had been commanded, and followed after him, following him up those stairs and down the hallway, before arriving into the student council room. There, they watched with a bit of disbelief as he then placed himself in an expensive, yet rather normal chair at the end of the table, settling himself in, looking completely at odds with his surroundings.

It was with this contradicting scene in both of their minds that Lelouch and Kallen sat down, though on opposite sides of the table. Once that was done, they both fell into silence as their two attackers fell into a position that gave a respectful distance, but were still within range to intercede if either of them chose to attack their charge.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, but was in fact only a few minutes, Kallen's patience ran out. Only, as soon as she opened her mouth, she found herself cut off once again, only this time less violently.

"We're awaiting our final guest," the Emperor rumbled, his eyes pinning her down like a parent giving a look to a misbehaving child, "you have the most reason to question the veracity of what I am here to discuss. Therefore, I feel it would only be fair that our other guest would be here to dispel some of that distrust."

They then fell back into an uneasy silence until finally, the door opened to reveal another black clad figure dressed similarly to the others, with only one exception being that of his helmet. Ignoring the more ornate features that gave a certain elegance to the helmet, in the middle was an elaborate artistic rendition of a gilded sword running down the middle of the mask, edge impaled into an all-too-familial sigil of Geass before continuing further.

Yet it wasn't just the imagery on the mask that caught their attention, it was also the tangy, metallic scent of freshly spilled blood and the acrid, cloying smell of smoke, as the figure seemed to glide across the floor to the side of the Emperor.

"Which one was it," the Emperor growled, agitation readily apparent to the duo.

"Puppeteer," the figure responded, the voice apparently male, yet heavily distorted by a voice modulator so as to be unrecognizable, "Echo Team intercepted her using the emergency tunnels the Ashfords had installed for a quick egress."

"How many did we lose?"

"Two. The body is being sent back to the homeland for analysis. This is something new, Charles, something I haven't seen before."

The Emperor's expression grew pensive, the news obviously not what he wanted. While this took place, Lelouch watched, observing a different side to a man who had always seemed to be larger than life, yet in that moment seemed so...old. Kallen, on the other hand, was watching the other person, wondering exactly who it was that the Emperor believed would get her to even listen to what this man was saying

The spell was finally broken as the Emperor brought his imperious gaze back to them.

"Allow me to introduce Caliburn. I will refrain from explaining what he is, for now, as it will be pertinent soon. However…"

"Please, Charles," the figure held up his right hand, cutting off the Emperor, "I think it will be better if I did this."

"Of course."

With that, Caliburn reached up with both hands, his fingers reaching some sort of release on both sides of the helmet as there came a click that echoed in the room. That done, there was the sound of what could only be described as some sort of material sliding, the figure then tilting the helmet forward, before lifting it up and off his head.

"Uncle Cae," Kallen gasped, completely taken aback at who was revealed as Lelouch got a good look at the man.

He was older, maybe in his mid-to-late thirties, grey starting to speckle into the close-cut dark brown, almost black, hair and goatee. Sharp, intelligent brown eyes met his gaze levelly, measuring him, before, obviously finding something, the man turned his gaze back to the Emperor.

"With your permission, Charles, I think it would be best if I speak alone with my goddaughter."

"Of course," Charles offered a nod in acknowledgement.

Permission given, 'Cae' turned back towards Kallen, putting a warm smile on his face, as if that would be enough to reassure Kallen that everything was alright, "C'mon Kallen, let's go and catch up."

_**-A Spanner in the Works-**_

Kallen didn't know what to think. Hell, she was having trouble knowing what to believe now, looking into the familiar features of a man who had been more of a favorite uncle than any godfather. When she was younger, she would sit upon his lap and hear stories of his overseas experiences, heavily edited of course, but nonetheless she had been enthralled by those stories in those years. To her, Caedron Harrington had been a larger than life hero.

Of course, age and the upheaval in her life had jaded her to those stories, knowing that there was a lot more of what he hadn't told her. But he had still remained a 'good' guy in her eyes, who, despite his patriotism, had taken a stand and resigned in protest of the invasion of Japan. She could never hold it against him.

But it seemed she had been wrong. That it had all been a lie, because here he was, standing once again in the uniform of the enemy. Only this time, he seemed to be working closely with the very man who had subjugated Japan and turned it into just another Area.

Yet, it was still Caedron, that singular fact was the only saving grace from her reacting vociferously at the man who she was uncertain she truly ever known. She desperately wanted to have answers to..._everything_.

So she stood, her body moving on autopilot as her mind grappled with an incalculable myriad of emotions and questions swirling within, following after her godfather as he led her out into the hallway and turned, leading her along. She idly noted that two more masked figures followed behind her, but kept a distance.

After a short while, he came to a stop, looking out the windows and out onto the Ashford campus, allowing her to sidle up beside him, as she looked out to what he was looking at with interest. A part of her was unsurprised that he was watching as students meandered around the campus in the distance, going to their next class, or to join with friends, or maybe home. A bit of nostalgia flooded her, reminding her of happier memories when he would take her out to simply 'people watch' making up stories of people that would walk by, some realistic, others completely outlandish.

Somehow, it felt less outlandish looking at both of them now.

He then turned his head to look at her, taking her in, not with the eyes of a soldier, but of the godfather.

"You've grown," he noted, expression returning back to that warm, reassuring smile that somehow only seemed to infuriate her in this moment, "the last time I saw you…"

"Was three years ago," she finished with a snap, finally having an opportunity, and an outlet, to retake at least a little bit of the control that she had lost so quickly, "What are you doing here Uncle Cae? You were retired! Why are you…"

"Why am I serving the man who had an unknowing hand in ruining your family? Who turned your world upside down? Who is anathema to everything I believe in?"

"YES," she nearly shouted, unable to hide the hurt that bubbled and festered in her soul. Desperately yearning to have answers, to be reassured that there was something, _anything_, that could explain why her godfather would be here.

And so they stood there, staring at one another for what seemed like an eternity for her. Yet, she was unwilling to break their gaze, _needing_ to know the truth. After so many lies in her family, she couldn't stand the idea that everything she thought she knew about Caedron was a lie.

Finally, the standoff broke, as the smile on his face died away and warm light in his eyes dimmed. Frowning now, he scanned her a few moments before letting out a sigh, his shoulders giving just enough and he seemed to age a decade before her very eyes.

It was then his hand reached into one of the pouches on his chest, causing her to tense as he flipped it open and reached inside. He then retrieved something from that pocket, providing her with only a glimpse as he walked towards the window, choosing to open it just slightly before looking down at whatever it was, right hand fishing in yet another pocket. It was as he brought whatever it was in his left hand up to his face, his right hand finishing its fixing expedition in the other pocket, that she caught sight of what it was, not quite able to prevent her from wrinkling her nose in disgust.

It was then that Caedron retrieved a cigarillo from the case, before flicking open the embossed metal lighter in his right hand, igniting it, and lighting the cigarillo now dangling from his lips. He then snapped the lighter shut with a flick of his wrist, and inhaled from the cancer-laden stick, closing his eyes as he replaced his tools of gradual self-destruction back into their preassigned pockets, before letting out a cloud of smoke out the window.

A part of her was scandalized at the sight before her, for many reasons. The first being that smoking in Britannia was viewed as a recreation of _lesser _peoples, lower-tier commoners, Honorary Britannians, and Numbers. To willfully inflict harm upon one's body was viewed as inherently un-Britannian. It was further exacerbated by the fact that her Godfather of all people, was blatantly smoking upon an upper-class campus with her right beside him for anyone with good eyesight to quite possibly see in passing.

She wanted to say something, but never got the opportunity, as Caedron finally started talking.

"All men are not created equal," he began, before taking another draw from the cigarillo before slowly exhaling it, his gaze faraway as he seemed to take the time to collect his thoughts. He then snorted and proceeded to shake his head, as if he were discarding some thought as she could only watch him with rapt attention.

"I've lost count over the years how many times Charles has said that, but he's not wrong," her mouth opened to rebut his statement, but again, he refused to give her the opportunity, "I know what you want to say, Kallen, and you are right, but you are, like Charles, also wrong."

"Or rather, you're both oversimplifying an inordinately complicated subject. Politics kinda has that effect."

He then took another heavy drag from the cigarillo, leaving her to watch as the paper was consumed as he inhaled the cancer-inducing materials. It was only after he released another plume of smoke from his lips that he spiked the cigarillo on the floor, and proceeded to grind his boot on it, blemishing the ornate marble underneath.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, Kallen, is that while Charles spends his time nattering on about the supremacy of Britannian bloodlines, I'm proof positive that he's just spewing carefully distilled bullshit that is easy for the masses to swallow."

"What," she couldn't keep the incredulity from her tone. It wasn't just the fact that the man she had looked up to was repeating a line oft-said by the Emperor of Britannia, but he was standing there and telling her that it was all _just politics_. It didn't, _it couldn't_, compute.

It was then that he looked back at her, a wan smile gracing his lips, "My father," he turned his head away, distaste creasing his features, "my father made a lot of mistakes. He was loose with his money, and he always believed he could make it back through some big score or another...until he just couldn't."

The sigh that escaped his lips seemed so tired, "Imagine, on your fourth birthday you had just had what you thought was the most delicious treat on the planet. Your father had come home from one of his schemes, and brought with him what seemed to be a veritable feast. Burgers, fries, and a small, albeit cheap, chocolate cake that was just for you. You go to bed thinking that everything is finally turning around and Daddy won't be so unhappy."

His eyes closed, jaw tensing, as if holding back some sort of pain, even as he twisted his neck slightly, the muscles in his neck tensing and rippling, only for his eyes to snap open again. He wasn't looking at her, but even at this angle, she could see so much anger and pain his expression.

Nor could she really say anything, there was nothing that _could_ be said in this case. Never before had she seen him so emotionally...raw. Like an open festering wound was suddenly uncovered again for all of its ugly glory, and she was seeing it for the first time and coming to the realization that maybe she had never truly _known_ her godfather.

"Then when you wake up," he finally continued, "you're in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, and this man tells you that your daddy died in a car crash, and that as a friend of your father's, he was taking you in. And if you know what's best for you, you will be friends with the man's son. The 'or else' was left unsaid, of course, it just wouldn't be proper for a noble to be so crass," he then added on bitterly, even as it started to dawn on Kallen where this was going, a sudden feeling of sickness settling in her stomach.

"I didn't even have time to internalize what this man had told me yet when his deep blue eyes pierced into my soul and I nodded, as if silently agreeing to his demand while trying to figure out what was going on in my mind. It was after that a maid brought in a young boy only a few months younger than me with deep red hair, and equally deep blue eyes."

"No," she half-whispered, half-pleaded, as horrific comprehension coalesced that she so desperately wanted to deny, hoping, no, praying, that where Caedron was leading her didn't reveal even darker sins in her family that even she had thought possible.

"It was only when I turned thirteen that I learned that the big score my father had landed, the one that gave me probably one of my happiest memories with the man who had spawned and did the best by me, had been bought with the money he had acquired when he sold me to Winslow Stadtfeld who was looking for a live-in playmate for his son, Elend."

Later on, she would blame what happened next on the lingering scent of ash and tobacco that cloyed in the air, but for now, it honestly didn't matter, as she could no longer hold back that sick feeling, her hand first shooting up to cover her gag, before she backed up and quickly turned, finding a trash bin and expelling the contents of her stomach into it.

Despite knowing that her family was a fucked up, but what she had known paled in comparison to the knowledge that her family had partaken in the practice of _slavery_, because that was what it was no matter how you tried to parse it. The idea of her Uncle Caedron, her godfather, a man who had never once shown any sort of malice to her, had been a slave to her family.

Her gorge rose, just as she had been able to recover, emptying out what little remained in her stomach to add to the sick she had already left. It was as she slowly gathered her breath, clearing her throat of any remnants as she slowly recovered.

She then found a small handkerchief in front of her, and a small flask of water, causing her to grab them, allowing her to wipe her mouth, and then take a slow, deliberate sip, letting the cool liquid wash away the awful taste that lingered.

Finished with the water and handkerchief, she gratefully handed it back to the man, even as she grappled with a million thoughts that started connecting so many disparate pieces over the years that started now to make so much sense in the relationship between her parents and her Uncle Caedron. Yet, it still left so many other unanswered questions.

"Here," Caedron offered a now-lit cigarillo to her, causing her nose to crinkle in disgust, "trust me, you'll thank me later."

Deliberating for a moment, and trusting in the fact that Caedron had not led her wrong in the past, she took it, and began to place it in her lips.

"Slowly draw it in," he advised, "it's not just the nicotine, it's about breathing, In," she followed his directions, drawing in the smoke, despite her body's protest at the foreign material, "let it linger a bit. Then out," she let it exhaled, coughing slightly at the bitter, ashy taste in her mouth, looking to him.

"Good first time," he murmured, holding out his hand, and she placed it in there, before he drew it up to his lips and took a turn at it, doing it slowly and deliberately so she could learn from him, before letting it out and handing it back to her. She mimicked what he did, and as she exhaled it again, there was barely any irritation, and she felt just a slight bit of tension escape with the smoke that she let out from her lips, a slight buzzing sensation slowly creeping itself into her senses.

It was as she took another drag from the cigarillo, that he spoke again, and she honestly wished he hadn't, in hindsight.

"You're doing better than I did when Charles introduced me to smoking."

The resultant hitch of her breath left her sputtering as smoke had flooded into her lungs, as she coughed the smoke out, patting her chest as if that would stop her chest from feeling that she had slipped a balloon in.

"The fuck," she croaked, unable to keep the scandalous look off her face, though it was ruined by her coughing fit,"the fucking Emperor of Britannia smokes?"

The wide smile on Caedron's face was like the sun parting the clouds, "And the hypocritical asshole passes a tax increase on them every year proselytizing about how they are a terrible, harmful vice that should be stamped out for the good of Britannia."

She couldn't help it, she laughed, even if it was obvious that Caedron was trying to humanize the Emperor of all people to her, the idea was simply too farcical to not find some humor in.

"Come on," Caedron said, "let's take this somewhere else. I think you would appreciate some fresher air."

She glanced at the cigarillo, then back to him, raising an eyebrow, "Really?"

"You're never too old for terrible jokes," he retorted with a small shrug, "and besides, I think we'd both like to get out of this hallway, it's starting to smell a little rank."

Truer words could not be said, she agreed.

**_-A Spanner in the Works-_**

Father and son were left staring at one another as the door closed after Kallen and Caedron's exit, leaving only the two of them, as the two guards who had still remained were inconsequential in the grand play that was taking place between them.

But for Lelouch, there was only one thing that mattered at this moment, taking precedence over anything else as far as he was concerned.

"What do you mean my mother sent you?"

"It is exactly what I said, your mother, in her insufferable existence as a soul trapped in the body of a prepubescent girl has sent me to congratulate you on a job well done in disposing of the filth that was your half-brother, while I am here determine whether I should bring you into the fold."

Even though this was now the second time that the knowledge that his mother was alive had been inflicted upon his psyche, once again, Lelouch was left with only one word to respond to the statement, a soft, almost uncomprehending, "What?" escaped his lips as he started blankly at the Emperor.

This led to a sigh from the older man, as he muttered, "Of course she would be right," before reaching into his vest and retrieving a phone. After a moment of manipulating it, he then placed it down on the table.

"Called it," came a voice on the phone that called Lelouch faintly recognized in the back of his mind, but the drawl and accent which were also _extremely_ familiar set of warning bells in his mind. "Don't play games with me, you expect me to believe that my mom is the voice on that phone?"

"Well Marianne," came the response from Charles, and Lelouch could swear, even through his rage at this travesty, that there was some mirth in his tone, "our son has a point."

"Of course he does, Charles. Paranoia is one of those traits that I wish Lulu never got from your side of the family," came the snark from the phone, "In that case, I guess I'll have to bring out the big guns," she paused in a theatrical sigh.

"Your first kiss was little Euphie. About a week before that little hobgoblin tried to kill me, Euphemia was wearing another one of those silly much-too-long dresses and tripped on the second-to-last stair on the grand staircase. You just happened to be turning around as she fell and she landed right on you. It was cute watching the two of you blush and break away. Ohhh, I wish I had a camera back then."

It took almost everything he had not to fall out of his chair at that statement. It was an event that only three people were privy to: Euphie was unlikely to tell anyone about it, because of her sickeningly inherent goodness would prevent her from sharing a private moment like that with anyone, Nunnaly was unlikely to tell anyone simply because it was a security risk, which only left—

"M-Mum," he murmured, loud enough for the phone to pick it up.

Only for anything else to be drowned out by screaming on the other end of the phone.

"Shut up, Bartley," snarled his mother(?),"I'm having a moment with—," the sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room,"_my,_" followed by a half-choke, half-gurgling sound that caused Lelouch to grow green, "_—__**son!**_"

The sound of breathing filled the speaker.

"L-Lady Marianne, I think it may be wise to remove yourself from Bartley, I think he needs medical attention. Dead men tell no tales."

It finally clicked in his mind just exactly what was going on at this moment. He was on the phone with his mother, who was obviously _**not **_dead and was in the middle of interrogating (torturing) Bartley Asprius.

"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, how many times have I told you to call me senpai, lady is just so formal for our shared mutual interest," there was a pause, "but you're right. You get Bartley looked over, I'll be back in a bit."

With that, there was the sound of a door opening, followed by closing, and then the sound of boots clicking on the floor. It was then interrupted by another door opening, and then it itself closing.

"So, how did it feel splattering that dandy's brains across his little throne? Was it a rush? It must have been exhilarating seeing the terror in his eyes, knowing you had the power to"

Immediately, his mind couldn't resist the urge, flashing back to that event, the terror in the eyes of his half-brother right before he pulled the trigger, the bullet exiting out the back of his head along with—

"Marianne," The Emperor's voice boomed as he resisted the urge to emptying his stomach upon the table, "enough."

"But Chaaaaaarles," came the piteous whine, "it was his first kiiiiiillllll."

"I didn't fly halfway across the world for you to compare notes with our son over the phone. You can do it on your own time, but we need to get to business."

A glass of water was placed before Lelouch, which he gratefully begun gulping down to settle his stomach, even as his mother sighed, "Fiiiiiine. Only cuz it's my darling Lulu."

Enough time already spent upon feeding Mariane's too much attention, and wanting to get back upon task as to why he was even here, he was quick to hang up on Marianne, knowing that he would hear it later. But frankly, the last thing he needed was for a bit more of The Flash to leak through and affect their son further.

"Are you willing to listen to me now?"

Still shaken by the revelation that his mother was still alive, Lelouch could only dumbly nod, taking another sip of the water after a moment, making the attempt to calm his nerves. Everything was honestly coming too fast, from the moment the Emperor had shown up to know, for him to gain any grounding. But if he was going to have any chance, he had to get himself back in gear.

"It began over fifty years ago with a wish," Charles began, slowly getting to his feet, obviously finding the need to walk while he spoke, then he began pacing, discomfort obvious in his expression as he shared what was obviously something he didn't want to dwell upon, "my older brother and I wished for the ability to create a world without lies. One in which the conflicts of humanity would disappear as there would be no lies to create conflict. A simple wish," he paused, his eyes closing, obviously remembering it, "a childish wish made in the death and despair of the Emblem of Blood."

"When we first started, we didn't know how we were going to do it," he continued after a moment, "we had no home, our only supporter was our mother's attendant, Lilian, and we were constantly on the run, lest our mother's assassins would finish the job that they had initially failed."

He paused, obviously trying to find the right choice of words, in many ways, for Lelouch, much to his chagrin, it was like looking into the mirror.

"It was a few weeks later that we discovered that Lillian had a secret," he paused, his gaze taking a faraway look, recalling the event, "the assassin's found us at a cabin in the White Mountains. It was a safehouse that Lilian took us to, how she had a safehouse we didn't found out until later, but it was there," he again paused, "it was there that we learned of Geass and the Code of Immortality."

"Lilian, or Lilith, as we learned her name was, saved the both of us," he admitted, quietly, "impaled, shot repeatedly, nothing would stop her as she killed each and every single one of the assassins sent to kill us. She could have simply left us to die, but she didn't. It wasn't until much later that I realized why she had even done it, and why she would eventually grant my brother her Code."

He then turned back to Lelouch, "Tell me, my son, how would you view the world if you had lived over a millenia, seeing both the triumphs and horrors that our race is capable of. Watching as those you knew slowly were claimed by entropy, but you stood untouched by time, unable to age, unable to move on, a silent and powerless witness."

_I don't know, _Lelouch thought, realizing he had spoken it only when Charles nodded.

"She was tired," he spoke, "So tired of living, and yet she wanted her death to mean something. Over the millennia of her life, she had watched as her brothers and sisters had left their mark upon history, raising empires and crushing them. Inspiring grand leaders and monstrous dictators. For so long she had chosen to live in the shadows, a static and miserable existence."

Coming back to his seat, he folded his hands upon the table, piercing Lelouch in his gaze completely, a spider with its prey firmly entrapped.

"Vincent and I provided her with that out. Somehow she knew we were destined for some sort of greatness, but she didn't have the heart for the death and destruction that would be necessary for the change. So, she made a decision."

Reaching in his robe, he withdrew a dagger and placed it upon the table, the end pointed towards Lelouch.

"There are two ways to grant a Code," his voice darkened, "the first is conventionally, a Code Bearer grants Geass, a power based upon the recipient's deepest wish, the Geass Carrier then proceeds to increase the power of their Geass until it reaches full maturation, and then with the blessing of the Code Bearer, they are allowed to accept the mantle of immortality by killing the bearer and absorbing the Code."

His eyes flicked towards Lelouch, "That is the endgame of your contract with C.C., my son. Make no mistake, Lelouch, to C.C., you are a means to an end for her, an escape. Once you have fully matured your Geass, she will have you kill her. Robbing you of this power you believe will allow you to defeat me, and dooming you to a lonely and miserable existence until you can find your own gullible mark to accept this curse."

Lelouch found that he didn't know what to think, anger, nervousness, and so many other emotions bubbling underneath the surface. He understood that there was a hidden cost to his pact with the witch, but he hadn't realized just what they had meant. To have the man that he so despised lay it down so plainly with no punches held was...hell, he didn't have a word to describe how he felt.

Did the man actually care, despite everything he had said over the years?

"The second method is a bit more complex, and quite honestly, I doubt C.C. was aware of it, because if she was, I almost guarantee you would have likely never had met her, because she would have found someone to take the Code," he sighed, before bitterly adding, "likely Washington or Bonaparte. They were always her favorites."

"While I will not burden you with the details, Lelouch, I will admit that this was the method in which we chose to embrace this power. Originally, I had intended to take the onus of the Code, Vincent was always the better leader and would have been a harsh, but effective Emperor. Alas, Vincent chose to take it, becoming an immortal and granting me the power of absolute memory revision. And for the last fifty years, I have been using that power to first take over and now control the Empire."

"And what changed," the demand escaped his lips before he could restrain it, "You seemed perfectly happy growing the Empire through bloodshed and trampling everyone you pleased. Don't tell me you suddenly developed a conscience."

A tense silence developed between the two of them for a moment, both unwilling to back down to the other. A contest of wills between father and son, though the latter would prefer it not to be so.

"Your mother changed a lot of things, Lelouch," the elder finally said, choosing to give ground rather than maintain the schism, "Loathe as I am to admit it, until Marianne came into my life, I was much worse than I am now. Ruthless, uncaring, nothing had meaning except the fulfillment of my goal of making a world without lies. There was no conscience necessary, my son, there was only conviction. And Marianne made me question that, both when she managed to worm her way into my heart, and then when she had you."

Lelouch couldn't stop himself and shot to his feet, snarling inarticulately at such a preposterous notion. In all of the years he had known the man who had sired him, never once had he seen any sort of warmth or caring from the man, in fact, he had been downright dismissive, leading up until his exile.

"Tell me, Lelouch, if I had shown any favoritism to you, what do you think would have happened," came the question that caused him to stop his angry pacing, "do you really believe you would have survived until now?"

"It didn't help protect mother, now did it?"

"No," the Emperor of Britannia agreed, "it didn't."

"Why?"

"Because I underestimated my brother," came the response finally, making it obvious that this was a difficult subject even for him, "After I met your mother, things began to change, and after you were born, it was only made more dramatic. As she held you in her arms, with me there, she asked me if we were doing the right thing. Not the idea of uniting the world, but the actual plan that we were pursuing was truly right for everyone, including yourself."

It was then that his shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping his lips making him see so much older than the sixty-three old man that he was.

"Vincent," he paused, looking for the right words, "the Ragnarok Connection has always been his obsession. It was the one thing that allowed him to rationalize why he sacrificed everything to become immortal. And when I began to waver upon that path, he began to turn against me...against us. I was blind him changing because for so long he had been my brother. It wasn't until that he tried to kill Marianne that I realized just how far he was willing to go in order to fulfill his self-proclaimed purpose."

He reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, before the fingers drew down his face.

"It was only thanks to Marianne's Geass, that I became aware of Vincent's treachery. He hated your mother for causing me to change, hated her enough that her death wasn't enough for his pettiness, he had to destroy everything that was her. Nunnally had not been a mistake, and if he hadn't been interrupted..."

It was then that it clicked just what the Emperor was going toward, and Lelouch found himself back in his chair, staring at the man in a different light.

"The exile. You planned it."

His answer was a solemn nod, "After that, Marianne and I realized neither of you would be safe if you remained in Pendragon. There's only so much either of us could do to protect you, and it would never be enough. Sending you to Japan, where it would be in their interests to keep you safe seemed to be our best option while we explored ways of absorbing Japan peacefully into our dominion."

"So then what happened?"

"I underestimated Vincent," he gave a derisive bark of laughter, "seems to be a constant theme of mine. Sometimes I wonder if I ever knew him at all. But I digress, contrary to popular belief, while I may be the Emperor of Britannia with all the powers invested into me as an autocrat, I have to be mindful of the whims of those who support me lest they find someone more palatable. In this case, Vincent used your mother's assassination and the lure of even cheaper Sakuradite to fan the flames of war to where annexing Japan was the only option I had available, lest I give Vincent an opportunity to depose me."

"Then if you were intending to invade Japan, why didn't you retrieve Nunnally and myself," Lelouch demanded, even as his mind was rapidly starting to put further pieces together to create a mosaic of things he honestly did not like. It was one thing for the Emperor to make excuses, it was quite a different one to show actual weakness, which was what the man before him was showing.

But the weakness disappeared quickly, in an instant replaced by sternness, "Let me abundantly clear, Lelouch. Since your mother was assassinated, I have been fighting a war against my brother, a war that will likely decide the fate of the world. I don't have the luxury of doing the right thing anymore, and if I chose to let my personal feelings decide my actions, then I would give Vincent the opportunity he needs to win. That is why I did not recall you or your sister, it would have alerted Japan to what was going to happen, and it would weaken my already tenuous position. The only option I had available was to retrieve you as the invasion began, a mission that failed because neither Nunnally nor yourself were present at the Kururugi Shrine when my personal forces arrived."

"Though," he added, "it was probably fortuitous that you were not, as you would have likely been caught in the crossfire between them and Vincent's men. After that, it was decided by both your mother and myself that we would not attempt to actively track you."

His eyes narrowed, looking to Lelouch, before he broke into a smile, "Imagine my surprise I find you not only unwittingly involving yourself with my war with Vincent, but you find yourself in league with the one person I know Vincent will pursue to the ends of the Earth to get back. Not only that, but you handily eliminate one of his proxies with a ragtag group of insurrectionists who had no chance of survival."

It seemed like the roller coaster had yet to stop, at least for Lelouch as he stared dumbly at the older man, taken aback at what could only be interpreted as pride. It was something he had honestly never seen before from the man in his life, and to have it now, after everything that had transpired between the two of them was jarring to say the least.

"So why are you here," he finally asked, finding his voice, but it no longer had any of the rebelliousness it previously did, instead, there was just a cold acceptance that whatever was going to happen, he had about as much choice as he did seven years ago. All that he was left with, however, was a myriad of feelings he honestly did not want to admit out of spite for the man across from him.

"I'm here to bring you back into the fold, my son," came the response, a response he honestly did not want, but knew, now with the information that had been presented before him, that it was no longer a matter of what he wanted, "this shadow war between my brother and I cannot keep going as it is. We're losing, my son. It's only a matter of time if the status quo continues that Vincent will either wear us down or get lucky, and when he does, he will follow through with his plans. Plans that will result in the deaths of billions."

"I no longer know who to trust even amongst those I would have previously trusted, who has been compromised by Vincent, or who could be willing or unwittingly working for him."

"And you think I am your solution?"

This drew a bellowing laugh from the older man, "Son, you are a complete spanner in the works. I have a feeling Vincent is at this very moment frothing at the mouth at the fact that you ruined one of his plans. He's petty and vicious once you've raised his ire, and you've redrawn a bullseye on you, and this time, I doubt he will allow you to slip away like you did previously. He will be coming for you, don't delude yourself otherwise."

_So I am going to be a pawn in your game again, am I, _Lelouch thought bitterly, trying to find any way to get himself out of his situation and failing to do so. He was in checkmate, even if he chose to ignore what the Emperor was saying, believing it all to be a lie, that was completely undermined by the effort the Emperor was putting in to being here. And if he refused, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be forced into service regardless of his choice because of the older man's Geass.

Instead, he slumped in his chair, the air escaping his lips. He was doing this not for himself, not for his pride, but for a chance for Nunnally, even if it was a slim one.

"What do you wish of me, Your Highness," he grit out, unable to bring his eyes to what he knew was the gloating visage of the man who had tormented his very dreams.

So it was to his surprise that there was no answer except movement, as he kept his gaze averted as the Emperor drew closer. Then, to his shock, he found a hand placed upon his shoulder and he could no longer resist looking away, instead looking up to the face of the man who had sired him.

"If I merely wanted a subordinate, I would have sent Bismarck to retrieve you. Rise, my son, there is much we need to discuss, all of us."

Lelouch then found his gaze following the Emperor's to find Kallen standing there in the doorway, looking on with a mixture of apprehension and surprise.


End file.
